


rotting strawberries in a broken box

by coffeesjelly



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Attempt at Humor, First Time, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mutual Pining, Not Actually Unrequited Love, childhood best friends to lovers supremacy, tsukiyama bc i love them so much
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-18 22:00:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29496939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coffeesjelly/pseuds/coffeesjelly
Summary: "Why are you trying to hold my hand?""If you were uncomfortable, you could've just pulled away."Fuck. Yamaguchi's really done it this time.
Relationships: Tsukishima Kei/Yamaguchi Tadashi
Kudos: 29





	1. Strawberries & Cigarettes

**Author's Note:**

> hey! my skin was burning to write tsukiyama so here we are. 
> 
> I recommend listening to all of the chapter titles because they're song names and remind me of them so much dear god I need therapy. Rated M for a specific later chapter so im hoping you'll look forward to that as much as I am. There might also be additional chapters, i really did a poor job of planning this out.
> 
> *Chapter Song: Strawberries and Cigarettes by Troye Sivan

In Yamaguchi’s opinion, or a simple fact as he called it, strawberries tasted best in August. The entirety of August was summer break, which meant going over to Tsukishima’s house or having him come to his; and it meant late night sleepovers in twin-sized beds, laughing under the stars and pointing out nonexistent constellations that looked like random objects, and secret side glances at Tsukishima-- ultra-mega secret though. An unrequited secret. 

  
  
  


“Tadashi,” Tsukishima spoke, low and breathy and whispery and redefining what sex meant because this tone of voice, this ever-pleasant ripple of a humongous horny wave, was what sex was like in Yamaguchi’s book. “You’re spacing out.” 

There was the sound of a funny crash on the TV screen as Yamaguchi blinked himself back to earth. He came in 5th place in the Mario Kart game they were playing, Tsukishima coming in 1st and setting down his controller to lift a brow towards a still somewhat spaced out Yamaguchi. 

“Was I? Sorry, Tsukki.” He wasn’t sorry. Examining the perfect slope of a nose under perfect black glasses that led to a perfect tip with lights dancing off the corners was not something Yamaguchi was sorry for. That, or he just didn’t _want_ to be sorry. 

Tsukishima held his gaze, not replying to the apology, or rather, letting the shift of his gaze from one of Yamaguchi’s eyes to the other be the reply. 

“Want to play again?” Tsukishima was still looking him in the eye, arm propping him up as his head tilted to the side to rest partially on his shoulder and partially on the mattress behind their backs. There was something different about the way Tsukishima looked at Yamaguchi, he noticed from years of open-mouthed staring, and he didn’t mean in an _I love you_ way, he wasn’t that conceited, but more in the way of being able to meet eyes without being uncomfortable. Yamaguchi prided himself in this fact. He thought about it often, to be honest. “We can do something else if you want. You were spacing out so I assume you’re bored.” 

_Yes, I want to do something else, Idiot. I want to suck your lips so hard they fall off. I want to give you hickeys even though I have no clue how to and would probably die of embarrassment before I ever could._ Is the shit that rambled throughout Yamaguchi’s mind like a reflex, and also much like a reflex, he shoved it somewhere in his brain folder named _denial._

“...Can we watch?” He was referring to Attack on Titan and already knew the answer but asked to be polite anyways. Tsukishima stood to grab his laptop from his desk, pulling away the covers of his bed and slipping under them until his hip hit the wall, leaving a Yamaguchi-sized space next to him. 

“There’s cake in the fridge.” 

Five words said in a confusing invitation of sorts were immediately translated in the brain of Tsukishima Simp Inc: _Yamaguchi Tadashi, there’s some cake in the fridge that you can go get if you’d like to share it with me as you know my house probably better than your own. If you would not like any, nod and get the cake anyways, just bring a single fork and I will understand._

He opened the previously closed door of Tsukki’s bedroom, briefly thinking to himself that it really shouldn’t be closed if his parents want their son to avoid being eaten alive by a salivating Yamaguchi, the childhood best friend that was always just a little bit too friendly. It’s always the quiet and nice ones, he swears. 

Allowing the dim light of the small night light placed in the kitchen guide him, Yamaguchi stumbled to the refrigerator, cracking it open as quietly as someone could and picking up the plastic box containing the cake. He grabbed two forks on his way back up, glancing at his lit up phone for the time. _1:28._ He wondered how it had gotten so late without him realizing. 

Like a burglar stealing strawberry cake for some reason, Yamaguchi made his way back up the stairs, praying he didn’t wake up Tsukishima’s mom when he almost tripped over his own foot. The crack of Tsukki’s room shed a sliver of light, guiding him towards it until he made it through. His room was warmer than the rest of the house, he noticed. 

Tsukishima spared him a glance, allowing him to slide under the sheets, the laptop resting on one of Tsukki’s legs and one of Yamaguchi’s, their hands practically touching, Yamaguchi reluctant to pull away to open the cake box. He moved it anyway. 

For the past few months, the two of them had been watching Attack on Titan every night, episode by episode, whether it be next to each other on the weekends or over facetime. The summer break permitted multiple episodes, to Yamaguchi’s delight. 

Back when school was still in, he secretly rushed through all of his homework, ignoring possibilities of poor grades for more Tsukki Time. Yes, you heard that right. Tsukki Time. It’s what he called spending time with his best friend in his head ever since he was little, even though the name made him want to throw up until all of his intestines spilled out of him and he died. 

He liked to think that Tsukishima also looked forward to these nights, not authorizing his mind to wander to the thoughts that he was clingy, annoying, a burden, and that Tsukki only hung out with him out of pity. He thought all of these frequently anyway. He pretended that he didn't though. 

They reached season three of titan eating goodness. This was by far Yamaguchi’s favorite season, both because there were less titans that scared him, something he would never admit, and because Tsukishima never skipped the intro. He knew it was Yamaguchi’s favorite. He always sang along and commented about how beautiful the official art was. 

“You’re a good singer.” Tsukishima licked off pink frosting from his fork, interrupting Yamaguchi from his usual singalong. 

“And you’re a good liar.” He laughed at his own wit. He’s heard Tsukki sing, he was surprisingly a shower-singer, and he could definitely say he was the best singer he’s ever heard. He wanted to hear his singing combined with his piano playing, or maybe he didn’t, the sound just might kill him. And that was only partially his biased side talking. 

If he recalled the night that he heard Tsukishima singing correctly, which, let’s be honest, he remembered all of his memories with Mr. Dino-lover correctly, it was about three months ago on a Saturday. He had come over unannounced, let in by Mrs. Tsukishima, and headed up to Tsukki’s room where he waited on his bed. Attached to the room was a door that led straight to the bathroom, and the shower was running. When he got closer, however, he heard it. A pure angel sent straight from the heavens above-- maybe angel wasn’t the correct word for someone with Tsukki’s personality but shut up, he didn’t want to hear it-- was singing, low and quiet enough for no one to hear unless they were two feet away from the door like Yamaguchi was. 

The shower ended just as the song did, Tsukishima still humming as the drips of leaking water slowed and the shower curtain opened, prompting Yamaguchi to jump away from the door and onto the bed. The turn of a knob soon followed, revealing a sight that Yamaguchi had only seen in his wet dreams. 

Tsukishima stepped out of the door frame, body outlined in a golden ring of light, halo practically flying over his head to blind everyone in the neighborhood-- no, in the entire Japan-- pitch black boxer-briefs hanging low on his hips, perfect v-line bone structure following underneath it, hair messy and wet _(wet!)_ with a white towel patting it down, a necklace _(necklace!)_ he had never seen before looped around his neck, face bare of his glasses that rested in his non-towel-drying hand, droplets of water slipping down lean arms and broad shoulders and smooth legs. Yamaguchi was staring, _drooling,_ mouth agape for a second before he forced it shut and for the first time, Tsukishima was embarrassed. He froze at the sight of Yamaguchi, eyes widening only for a second before he turned towards his chest of drawers, opening one and pulling out a white shirt to slip over his still wet body. 

“What are you doing here?” Neither of them looked at each other, Yamaguchi frantically sweating and attempting to control his voice (and his hormones) at a still bare-legged Tsukki. 

“Nothing really uh...I brought some mochi that I thought you’d like,” he said, silently patting himself on the back for controlling his usually uncontrollable nervous stammering, “Sorry for coming without asking first.” 

“You always come without asking anyway.” Tsukishima was fully clothed now, Yamaguchi wished he was the opposite, and came around to sit on the bed next to him. 

They ended up eating the mochi and listening to Tsukki’s music, Yamaguchi being surprised that the ice cream hadn’t melted from the copious amounts of heat from both a sweaty, nervous wreck of a man Yamaguchi and the blinding angelic form of Tsukishima. And that was how that day ended. 

  
  


Yamaguchi nearly missed half of the episode they were watching looking back on the memory, blinking himself back to reality. Tsukishima had finished his half of the cake, leaving his own half nearly untouched. 

“Your cake.” He met eyes with Mr. Freckles over here who was still sweating from nothing more than a breadstick’s half-nakedness. 

“You can have it. I thought I was hungrier than I actually was.” He laughed the same disgustingly nervous laugh that his reflexes admitted whenever he was uncomfortable. Dammit. 

“What’s wrong?” _Dammit, dammit, dammit._

“What do you mean?” 

“You’re making the face you make when something’s wrong.” Tsukishima bit into the leftover dessert, _tongue licking off the frosting and going around the fork--_ He was blushing. His eyes were naturally missing eye contact and Tsukki was going to notice. “Are you cold?” 

Now that, he didn’t expect. It was the middle of summer, how could he be cold! But he froze anyway, nodding to further benefit himself, his inner desires leaking through cracks in his skin. 

He was pulled closer to the second warm body in the bed, Tsukishima pulling the cover up and around Yamaguchi, as well as tipping his head so it rested on the bone of his shoulder. My god was it comfortable. Like a warm cocoon that smelled so strongly of everything that Tsukishima was, soaked in the magical parade of skin to skin contact. He was feeling bold. And he was scared of the courage that came from nowhere. 

His left arm slithered underneath Tsukki’s right one as he watched his face, looking for any sign of discomfort. His expression didn’t change so his arm kept moving, inch-by-inch until their hands were nearly touching. If his heart wasn’t already beating hard enough to pump itself out of his throat, it sure was now. 

His pinky twitched. _Just a sliver closer_. His fingers curled under the wrist of a very much statue-like Tsukishima whose eyes hadn’t left the screen for a scary amount of time. 

He uncurled his fingers, allowing the pads of them to glide lower down the wrist they felt, lowering and lowering _and lowering--_ He stopped at the sound of a voice just as his fingertips reached Tsukishima’s palm. 

“Why are you trying to hold my hand?” The voice was low and cold, almost, and not the kind of voice that was inviting him to proceed. Yamaguchi felt something inside him shatter. He hated confrontation, Tsukki knows that. It was obvious what he was trying to do and why, so painfully obvious that it was just cruel for words to be uttered like that. But Yamaguchi just stopped, unable to move his gaze, his fingers, or any part of his soon-to-be trembling body. 

But under all of that, Yamaguchi was angry. Angry at the fact that Tsukishima used one of his stupid fucking underhanded tactics of making someone feel uncomfortable by his lack of fear of confrontation. Angry that he didn’t know what to say. Angry that the tips of his fingers still felt the beating pulse of a stone-faced Tsukishima Kei.

“If you were uncomfortable, you could’ve just pulled away.” He used the last bit of crushed courage he had to look Tsukishima in the eye, or rather, look at the side of his face, he still hadn’t moved his gaze from the ongoing episode. He moved his hand away and slipped out from under the covers, the warmth fading as he picked up his bag and headed for the door. 

“Tadashi--” He heard shifting come from the bed behind him but ignored it anyways, keeping his feet moving and his hand turning the knob. 

“Sorry, Tsukki, I’ll see you around.” 

He left the Tsukishima house, tears on the brink of overflowing and heart burning, aching, arms crossed over his chest as he allowed himself to sob the second he was out of the sight of Tsukki’s window. He slid against the wall of a nearby park and crouched against it, head in his arms on his knees, catching dropping tears that stained the concrete. 

He was so angry, at himself, at Tsukishima, at the world, and at the way he was so pathetic, crying as the first bites of rejection. He wasn’t a frail little girl. He should’ve been able to handle this much when he saw it coming years ago. 

It was probably his fault, he thought, for pushing Tsukishima too far into discomfort and for leaving after being the one in the wrong. And it was again his fault for ruining something so perfect, fucking hell, but Yamaguchi was surprisingly self-aware. If he hadn’t done what he just did now, he would never be satisfied with what-ifs as he watched Tsukishima walk down the stupid fucking aisle with some girl while he watched and punched himself for not getting properly rejected. He, in all honesty, would rather face being a reject who's forced into the never-ending friend-zone than be one of those depressed characters in movies who never told their best friend how they felt until it was too late. Except differing from movies was Yamaguchi’s life at the moment. 

He fucked up, and he hated himself for it. 

  
  
  


\---

  
  
  


“Tadashi,” Tsukishima stood by the side of Yamaguchi’s desk, tapping long, lean fingers on the wood of it before coming around to the desk in front and sitting backwards in the chair to face him. He rested his cheek on his bent elbow that lay on the desk, indenting it and turning it pink as his other hand tapped playfully next to Yamaguchi’s books. “Hey.” He nearly whispered, quiet, low, and so rich and full Yamaguchi could cry. 

“...Hey.” He wanted to pick up Tsukki’s head from the desk and kiss his cheeks until they fell apart. Dammit, he wished he could. 

The classroom was empty and silent other than the ticking of the clock hung on the wall and the drumming of fingers against wood. Yamaguchi stopped writing to look across at Tsukishima; long lashes, soft curly hair, slender fingers, golden brown eyed Tsukishima. Beautiful Tsukishima. Everyone should look like Tsukishima. 

He was caught staring. He’s usually careful when using the art of ogling through quick glances or pretending to look around the room or waiting for perfect chances but those precautions fly out the window when hazy light fills an empty classroom and Tsukishima looks dazzling in all of his half-asleep faultlessness. 

By now the drumming on his desk was nothing more than small taps here and there, barely audible unless you were as close as Yamaguchi was, and Tsukishima’s eyes had closed, completely asleep besides the moving of fingers. 

Yamaguchi watched as tumbling finger by finger glided across a smooth counter top and right next to his own hand. His mind felt oddly fuzzy, like he couldn’t remember anything that happened earlier in the day or anything before today and briefly pondered why until his thoughts were interrupted by a slender middle finger tracing the outlines of his hands before proceeding to lace them together. 

It was a natural fit. A type of fit that caused Yamaguchi to wonder why their hands had never been connected before when they were so obviously meant to be. It was borderline unbearably warm in the room now, both from sunlight that seemed to increase as the seconds passed by and by connected joints causing Yamaguchi to sweat profusely. 

Tsukishima wasn’t moving or sweating or even being remotely affected by skin-peeling amounts of heat that kept pouring and pouring in until the sound of shattering glass erupted from next to him-- except the window by his desk was unharmed and shards of glass began falling from the ceiling and barely missing the two of them. 

Tsukishima finally opened his eyes. Except it wasn’t just plain old Tsukishima anymore-- well it was in Yamaguchi’s mind, but he looked like an Attack on Titan Survey Corps soldier now as he pulled his hand furiously away and scowled so hard he would have burst some kind of blood vessel. 

“Why are you trying to hold my hand!” He yelled this time, thunder erupting from somewhere despite it being a sunny day and more glass shattering as his skin began peeling right off and sizzling under the heat of not even a sun anymore, just a ball of killing heat that made the classroom orange now. 

“S-sorry but can you just wait a minute please?” He said, pulling off his tie and panting before stripping off his shirt and feeling how it was covered in what was supposed to be his sweat. Upon touching it, it began searing his hands so he dropped it and it shattered, creating more sounds of broken glass as Tsukishima sighed and took off his glasses to crush it in his own hands, eyes beginning to glow red after removing them. 

“I’m going to catch you and eat you right up Tadashi!” Tsukishima practically growled, Yamaguchi getting on his hands and knees and begging for help from the floor he stood on. It heard his plea and split open, swallowing him whole as he fell deep into the crevice, the heat melting away along with the thunder and glass and the classroom to form a new scene. 

At this point, Yamaguchi had stopped falling and was now floating in a dark blackhole that was illuminated by faint traces of orange and yellow lights that popped into view one at a time as he blinked at them. He was fairly certain that he was dreaming but the haziness of sleeping brushed it away to continue seeing whatever was next. 

“I’m sorry, Tadashi.” Faint, breathy, words that floated about and echoed as quietly as a branch in the wind and was probably nothing more than a big ass culmination of what Yamaguchi wanted to hear, but it made him feel better. Comforted. By an imaginary, gentle Tsukishima Kei. He was sure he was awake by now. 

And then it was bright. Sheets of white streamed through his subconscious to drift to the next scene. It was Tsukishima as a little kid, about the same age as when they met, eyes following the text of a dinosaur non-fiction book as he held it. Rather than a dream, it was more of a memory. They were sitting in a grassy field where no one was around except some butterflies nearby and in the distance (this didn’t happen but was probably his imagination), and Yamaguchi was coming over carrying, you guessed it!, a crate of strawberries. He sat down, tapping Tsukishima on the shoulder and grinning when he looked over and thanked him. They ate in silence under the summer sun and Yamaguchi was reminded that they really never changed since then. 

Except for the fact that he fucked the best thing to happen to him. 

Fuck you, Yamaguchi. 

He grumbled and his eyes slowly opened, suddenly aware of where he was, how hot it was today, and how drenched in sweat all of his clothes were, not to mention the unfamiliar blanket covering him. The unfamiliar blanket was tucked up behind his shoulders and wrapped in a way so it was surely not going to fall, only, the problem was it was a hot summer day, Yamaguchi had fallen asleep against the wall of an empty park and had only woken up at midday. Even his asshole was sweating. 

Upon waking up completely and taking a closer look at the blanket, the yellow stars splayed across a navy blue plethora of threads, he recognized where he had seen it before. 

It was Tsukishima’s. 

Really, he shouldn’t have known that, but years of walking around Tsukishima’s house caused for the finding out of many things he shouldn’t have known as someone who didn’t live there, where the steps creaked, how to open the refrigerator with maximum stealth, where the spare keys were, and now the extra stash of blankets the family had in a closet he had mistaken for the bathroom years back. 

What this also meant was that Tsukki was here, covered him in a blanket he thought Yamaguchi had never seen before, and didn’t want him to know about it. 

What a prick. What an asshole prick who comes to check on idiot Yamaguchi after his stupid outburst because he knows exactly where he would be. Dammit. 

He picked up his backpack to stand and stretch and enjoy how there were no little kids giving him the side-eye for appearing to be a homeless teenager sweating a Yamaguchi-shaped stain on the wall he slept on. 

Pulling out a nearly dead phone from his backpack pocket as he strolled along the sidewalk, he texted his mom that he was staying over for lunch at the Tsukishimas’ place before pocketing it once more to preserve battery power in case of a happy coincidence that he would be chosen for a kidnapping and would never have to show his embarrassed face to Tsukishima ever again. 

No such luck. 

There was a nearby cafe that Yamaguchi had stopped by now, stepping inside to the strong smell of fresh-baked bread and a bright and cheery welcome in from one of the workers. The countertop looked as if it were cleaned recently, he noted as he ordered a ham and cucumber sandwich and a strawberry milkshake. 

Strawberry because it was so Tsukishima. He would’ve rather had vanilla. 

The worker thanked him after handing him a wrapped sandwich and telling him that his drink would be out soon. She was short, with long, brown hair that shined a golden, chestnut color in the sunlight shining through paneled windows. She was cute too, but nowhere near as cute as Tsukishima was when he smiled or _laughed_ and light pink dusted his upper cheekbones. A cute girl was eyeing him from across the room and tucking her hair behind her ear and all he could think about was the guy who rejected him. Great. 

The milkshake was done soon enough and from the corner of Yamaguchi’s eye, he saw the girl and who he assumed was her friend and coworker whispering behind the counter and laughing for a second before the second girl pointed her finger at him and shoved her friend towards his table. 

He pretended not to notice and sunk his teeth into crispy sandwich bread. 

“Hey!” She pulled out a chair and sat down across from him as he swallowed the bite of food he was chewing. She leaned over and rested her head on her hand, leaning in close as she smiled. “Yamaguchi, right?” 

He was surprised that she knew his name and raised his eyebrows at his name. “Yes…?” 

“Ah, I thought so. My name’s Sato Yua, we’re in the same year but I’m in Class 3. I’ve always seen you around, though.” She was still smiling and her friend behind the counter hadn’t taken her eyes off them either. He recognized her name but not her face. “Do you have a girlfriend?” 

He swallowed, nervously laughing and tilting his head a bit to avoid eye contact. She was bold. Tsukki was not. He hated that that was all he could think about. “I don’t, actually.” 

Her eyes widened, bright and a light shade of gold. Familiar. “Do you think that we could have lunch together sometime?” 

He paused. _Say yes. Move on._ “I-I’m not too sure…” _Dumbass._ The nervous laughter started again. He hates his laugh, both the genuine one and the fake one. 

“Sorry! You probably already like someone,” _Spot on, Sato! Continue to read my mind and find out how hopeless I am!_ “How about one date? If I can’t change your mind then I’ll give up.” She was extremely innocent looking for someone so daring. 

_You can’t change my mind._ How hopeless. “Sure.” He smiled back, “What’s your email?” She typed it into his phone and smiled, about to continue the conversation as the door opened and the worker welcomed the customer in. 

Tall, blonde, round, black glasses, headphones resting around a neck, hands in pockets. Their eyes met. Tsukishima’s widened a fraction that only Yamaguchi could spot. His blood froze in his veins. 


	2. Apocalypse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *Chapter Song: Apocalypse by Cigarettes After Sex

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we get an awkward boner in this chapter so be excited. also, sorry if this is actual shit, school and life is being the ugliest bitch right now but writing's helping so there's that. i hope you all are having a better day than i am though and i also hope you enjoy.

No.  _ No, no, no, no, no, n-- _ Shut up, mind. Useless, useless, mind. 

“Tada--” 

“Sorry. I have to get going now.” Yamaguchi was speaking to Sato but his eyes were fixed on Tsukishima’s unmoving, uncaring,  _ stupid fucking--  _ ahem, face. He was painfully aware that his hands were shaking as he tore his eyes away to look at them and stood up, collecting his backpack and the blanket folded and resting on top of it. 

Sato turned, suddenly aware of the mood change caused by the mysterious blonde standing still by the door. “...Alright, Yamaguchi. I’ll see you around!” 

She called but Yamaguchi didn’t hear her, too busy focusing on heading towards the door to hear anything but the pop of his own veins. Tsukishima watched as Yamaguchi strode towards him, eyes facing anywhere but Tsukishima’s and he stopped, arm rising to shove the blanket in Tsukki’s chest. 

He left the cafe after that. 

_ Just get away. Anywhere. Faster, faster, faster.  _ His feet followed his mind, afraid that if he stopped for even a second, the sandwich he just consumed would come right back up and he’d look so pathetically hurt he’d summon a titan to swallow him whole and end his miserable life right there. 

He made it around the block and just a few minutes away from his house before that happened, so luckily, no man-eating gross ass titan was needed. Or maybe unluckily. 

Panting and catching his breath against a nearby wall, he wondered if it would have been better to pretend that last night never happened and waved to Tsukki like normal and pretend that he didn’t have dreams about what it would be like if Tsukishima kissed him or held him or didn’t avoid getting his hand held. Maybe Tsukishima would have ignored yesterday too and everything would have been peachy. 

Or maybe he would’ve said some snide thing like  _ ‘Ignoring what happened yesterday?’,  _ which he never thought Tsukki would be one to do but didn’t think he’d be rejected like that yesterday either. He was so unpredictable just when Yamaguchi finally nailed understanding the way he worked. 

Tsukishima is a gentle person. To the average classmate or teammate on their volleyball team, this statement was laughable. But to Yamaguchi, it was the most apparent fact of life. They’d never seen the way Tsukishima took home a box of kittens dumped on the streets and brought them in to feed them, got scolded for it and acted like it was such a big burden but smiled and petted them when he thought no one was looking. Tsukishima came over to Yamaguchi’s house in the pouring rain and climbed through the window in middle school after he couldn’t sleep because of nightmares of the horror movie  _ he  _ chose. 

Tsukishima lowers his hands whenever Yamaguchi serves and only when he does. 

Tsukishima looks him in the eye, laughs, smiles, and lets down his guard for no one but him. 

It’s so unfair. 

He’s so unfairly perfect. 

  
  
  
  


\---

  
  
  
  


Summer break was passing at an all too fast pace, three weeks flying by in the span of what felt like minutes. A few days ago, Yamaguchi had agreed to go to the one date he promised Sato, who he was now calling Yua after she insisted, even though he felt awkward doing so, and all in all, it was great. 

They went to see a sci-fi movie about a utopian universe where a single college was the only thing remaining on earth and the students there have absolutely no clue what was happening and why yet attempted to survive as each of their peers became infected with a foreign disease one by one, leaving the remaining ones to distrust each other etc, you get the picture. It was mild horror for most, but caused Yamaguchi to nearly shit his pants at every twist, turn, and jump-scare, and desperately wished it was Tsukishima sitting next to him instead of Sato, followed by an itching guilt that he should be focusing on  _ their _ date instead. 

But Tsukishima, much like Sato, did not get scared by any type of horror films whatsoever. Yamaguchi, however, watched Coraline and hasn’t been able to pick up a button since. Tsukishima knows this, of course,  _ (what doesn’t he know!)  _ and proceeds to crack sarcastic jokes whenever he feels a scary scene coming and turns his face towards Yamaguchi to beckon him to make eye contact. He tells his joke, they miss the jump-scare, Yamaguchi laughs and goes home to recount every joke that was made and the look on Tsukki’s face when he laughed at them. 

And then he looks over to his left and Tsukishima isn’t the one sitting there. It’s Sato. 

Sato with flowing locks of curled hair tied back into a low ponytail. Sato with long eyelashes that flutter when she blinks and that cheerful smile that bursts whenever she starts speaking about sci-fi. Sato who was short and wore dresses that ruffle at the end and knee high boots that clicked wherever she went. Sato who actually  _ liked  _ him. 

Sato who was not Tsukishima. 

She was the embodiment of what he used to think he was into back in his middle school days where he was neck deep in the pits of denial. He wished it was her that he wanted to share every moment with and embrace and kiss and give half-slices of strawberry cake to. 

He wished his heart didn’t beat in his throat when his brain immediately thought about how much Tsukishima would’ve liked this movie if he had seen it. And how much more he would've liked it if he had gone with someone else. 

They walked out of the theater and passed the concession stands where Sato threw away her empty small popcorn and drink, linking her hand with Yamaguchi who allowed their palms to be held together but refused for their fingers to interlock, saving that for someone who he would never have. 

Sato’s reflection of the ending of the film buzzed quietly as Yamaguchi’s mind wandered, attempting to pay attention to what she was saying but failing miserably. As his phone buzzed in his back pocket, Yamaguchi desperately reached for it whilst walking and half-listening to Sato, hoping there was a message there that he had been waiting for since two weeks ago. Instead, he was welcomed by the notification of a new update happening tonight. 

_ Ugh, fuck off.  _

Sato stopped talking. Yamaguchi realized he muttered his last thought out loud and was now utterly mortified, waving his hands to desperately explain how he wasn’t talking to her but making it worse by showing how he wasn’t listening and kept rambling and rambling until she grabbed his arms to stop him. 

“...It’s fine, really! Don’t worry about it!” But she wasn’t looking at his face, eyes sticking to the rim of the underside of his jacket. They were now on the sidewalk outside of the theater, stopping before they hit the crosswalk. “I should probably get going now so…” She dropped her hand from his arm and brought it back to the strap of the mini backpack she wore. 

“But I promised you another half hour--” 

“It’s okay, we can just end here. There’s not much more to do anyway.” She smiled at him, forced, uncomfortable. 

“Ah...okay then. If you want, you can text me again and we can make more plans--” 

She interrupted him again, turning her head away as she did. “No need. I told you that I would use this date to change your mind but I couldn’t so it’d be better for my ego if I didn’t go out with you again when your mind isn’t actually here.” 

He stopped. She was right, dammit. It was his fault too for not trying harder. He really was a shitty person. 

“Sorry.” She shook her head, the backsides of her cheeks lifting to hint that she was smiling. 

“It’s alright. But he’s really worried about you. Comes around to the shop everyday looking. Even if you don’t think he’ll like you back, don’t wait around for him to come to you. I can tell he’s not that type of person.” She turned for the last time, a genuine smile painting her face as she waved goodbye and crossed the street. 

And just like that, he was once again read like a book by her. 

  
  
  
  


\---

  
  
  
  


There were only three more days until summer break ended. Yamaguchi had yet to text Tsukishima despite the  _ (very good, what the fuck are you doing dimwit)  _ advice from Sato. He had also been avoiding even crossing the street near the cafe where she worked, avoiding both Sato and Tsukishima and any scream-in-his-pillow scenarios that could come from that place. 

Time was ticking by, or  _ has been  _ ticking by for minutes, hours, years, who knows? And Yamaguchi was laying with his stomach facing the ceiling, completely zoned out and bored, barely conscious despite having his eyes open. It was sometime in the afternoon, he thinks, from what he could remember, and the heat of the sun was pouring in and causing him to sweat-stain the entirety of his room and probably downstairs too yet he didn’t move, entranced by skittering thoughts only formulated in moments of extreme heat and boredom. 

He desperately wished that their AC hadn’t broken on a day like this. Even more so, he desperately wished he could walk the few blocks to Tsukishima’s house and be welcomed in by the feeling of cool air caressing his sunburnt skin. Or even better! Tsukishima’s freezing cold fingers tapping away at his flushed face and body. 

He was absolutely exhausted from weeks of missing someone so important in his life. Fuck this world. He could die right here. 

There was a faint tapping from outside his window and a ping of an even fainter thought in Yamaguchi's head wondered who in their right mind would be walking out in such a heat. He prayed that they didn’t die of heatstroke. 

That was until his mom yelled from downstairs that Tsukishima had come to see him a few minutes afterwards and he instantly regretted making that wish. 

The speed at which he stood up at the horrific sounds of creaking stairs to stumble over his naked body and jump into the first pair of underwear he saw (he was lucky and chose a navy blue one) was 10 times faster than anyone should be moving and later had him pondering whether or not he would be better suited for the track team. 

The footsteps only got louder as they approached closer until they stood right behind his closed door  _ (see it was extremely hot today without the AC, picture it, so he swears it isn’t weird for him to have been laying completely naked on his bed, and he was clean okay!),  _ just as his boxer-briefs slipped over his ass. The door opened less than a second later, Tsukishima stepping in and stopping at the sight of burnt up Yamaguchi with his hands still pinching the sides of the elastic on his hips who was sweating even more after his three second workout across his room. 

“...Hey.”  _ (Why are you staring at my legs! Stupid Tsukishima! You’ve seen me look like this before, stop staring!)  _ As if his mind was read, Tsukishima turned to look wherever he was looking now (probably for both their sakes, really), allowing Yamaguchi to scurry to his drawers and pull a shirt over his head. Pants, on the other hand, he wasn’t even going to pretend he cared about them in a heat like this. 

“Hey.” He wiped the sweat on his forehead with the back of his hand. “Sorry, I was hot.” 

“It’s fine.” He was still standing at the doorway, the tension that clung to him filled the room, not helping Yamaguchi’s desire to not be soaked right now. “Let’s go to my place. It’s air conditioned.” He turned and walked right out of the room, expecting Yamaguchi to follow and in return, and he groaned as soon as he was out of sight, both at the never-ending Tsukishima attitude he knows better than anyone, and the situation he’s put himself in. 

Somehow, in the matter of seconds, they were walking around the corner and nearing Tsukishima’s house. He was wearing the only clean pair of pants he had available, deciding that it was probably not appropriate to walk down the street and into Tsukki’s house in just his underwear, and was so hot he thought he was going to pass out. 

He was walking, vision blurry, before getting stopped by a hand that grabbed his wrist. He hadn’t noticed that Tsukishima stopped walking. 

“Are you okay?” His arm was pulled and a hand was placed palm side up against Yamaguchi’s forehead, eyes focused and eyebrows bending. Yamaguchi slapped his hand away, suddenly self-aware and wide awake. 

“...I’m fine, thanks.” He turned to continue the path to the crispy pool of air conditioning that had his feet lurching in want. But under that intense need was the familiar tinge of his heart that tore through his spine and jumped at his veins. 

“Tadashi, please.” His wrist was grabbed again and he tried to pull away, iron grip not allowing him to. He hated it. He hated the way his name was said followed by some sort of plea that made him want to sob and melt into a comforting embrace and shove all these stupid regrets down the trash shoot. His nails dug crescents into his skin. 

And then he was pulled to face the person ripping his heart out and another hand was placed on his other wrist, thumbs rubbing almost unnoticeable circles into the bluish veins there. He knew Yamaguchi liked his physical touch. He knew what the small rubs and touches were doing to him. He could see the tears that were inevitably welling in his eyes even when he screamed at them to go away. 

He was really pulling away now, flailing and raising his voice in protest and tugging back his arms but Tsukishima didn’t let go. “This is so unfair!” And the tears began to fall and his head turned to face the ground and his hands trembled so he stopped trying to pull away. 

Tsukishima scooped him up into some sort of embrace, his hands floating at Yamaguchi’s shoulders as if asking for permission before pulling him close, allowing Yamaguchi’s head to be tucked in his chest. 

It was hotter in that position but he didn’t feel it. 

  
  
  
  


\---

  
  
  
  


“I’m home.” Tsukishima slipped off his shoes with his free hand, the other hand still clutching Yamaguchi’s wrist since he first grabbed it back on the sidewalk. Yamaguchi did the same. 

Back on the street after Tsukishima caught falling tears with his shirt, he refused to let go of the shoulders he held until Yamaguchi calmed down. After five minutes or so of Yamaguchi desperately choking back unrefined sobs that littered embarrassment through every crack of skin on his body, his breathing slowed and he whispered that he was alright. 

Tsukishima let go after that, his right hand coming up to ruffle the part of Yamaguchi’s hair that never seemed to stay in place no matter how hard he tired.  _ Okay,  _ he said, keeping the wrist in his palm and leading the way back to where they stood now. 

In the living room right by the entryway was Mrs. Tsukishima, flipping through a magazine before looking up and greeting Yamaguchi, commenting on how it had been so long. Akiteru was there too, apparently staying in town a few more days for his summer break. He smiled warmly at Yamaguchi, trailing his eyes as he was dragged up the stairs by Tsukishima who ignored his brother after greeting his mom. 

They successfully made it back to his room without Yamaguchi completely melting into a pile of gaseous, toxic liquid that screamed  _ haha, you got rejected, loser!  _ at anyone who passed by. Except now was arguably worse than before, Tsukishima stopping once entering the room, still standing in front of Yamaguchi with his backside towards him, refusing to let go of his wrist even as he wriggled about in every which way. 

“Tsukki, you can let go now.” Yamaguchi stopped pulling, choosing to speak instead. Tsukishima turned around to face him, gaze unchanging making Yamaguchi’s skin curl at the way none of this seemed to affect him at all. 

“I’m afraid that you’ll run away again.” 

Not the shitty jabs. He holds back a sigh and the urge to bodyslam a dickward right here. “I won’t. I promise.” 

Tsukishima just blinked, staring as if he were pondering whether or not Yamaguchi lied before letting so slowly, one finger at a time.

It was silent after that. Yamaguchi wanted to die. He half hoped this was all a dream. Tsukishima looked over at him after a few seconds. The look was enough to skin him alive. 

“Sit.” He pressed his hands onto the bones of Yamaguchi’s shoulders, forcing him down on the bed without much effort. “We have strawberries.” 

He stated that as if he just offered to go get some for the two of them, as if it didn’t need to be asked for the sitting one to understand. And he was right, Yamaguchi always understood. 

“No, I’m okay. I’m not that hungry.” That was a lie. He hadn’t eaten since breakfast this morning out of sheer laziness the heat brought on and could feel the low growl of hunger somewhere in his stomach. 

“Don’t lie. You’re easy to read.”  _ Oh, fuck off bird-brain. I hate you. Okay, that was a lie too.  _ He resisted the urge to apologize; Tsukki said he did that too much. Tsukki said this, Tsukki said that. How pathetic. He got rejected but can’t for the life of him even attempt to move on. He thinks he’s a masochist; that’s the only logical reason. 

Tsukki went downstairs and it only took him a minute to come back up, Yamaguchi not wasting a second of spare time to briefly think about escaping through the window to disappear into the night-- well late afternoon but ignore that-- before deciding against it and surveying the room instead. It was the same as it had been a few weeks ago when he had last come over, just with a few scattered things here and there, some piano notes on paper across his desk in his handwriting, a new book he was probably going to read, and his dinosaur collection on the shelves above his desk had changed their placement. He rearranges them once every week, you see, says he likes the variation or something. 

Tsukishima appeared in the doorway now, only taking a glance at his face and knowing exactly what he was thinking. “Like the new arrangement?” A huge sigh exploded in Yamaguchi’s head, big and loud and nearly like a growl as his hands pretended to slit his own throat because it was oddly embarrassing to be read like a book. 

“Oh...yeah.” Tsukishima sat next to him on the bed, setting the plate of neatly cut strawberries down in between them, Yamaguchi knowing they were pre-cut because Tsukki knew he would cave and come over here. Looking over at smug strawberry wheeler, he saw his mouth open, a fraction of an inch, as if he were going to speak before stopping himself. 

“Eat.” Yamaguchi obeyed. They were sweet, so very sweet, and represented everything about the heated days of summer that he loved, all packed in a single slice of fruit. 

Besides the whirring of the fan and the clink of the fork against the plate, it was silent and Yamaguchi almost minded. Except it wasn’t like this was out of the ordinary, no, sitting in a comfortable silence was the trademark of what it would look like when they hung out but that might have been what was the most worrying of all. He didn’t want to fall in the loop of things with Tsukishima pretending that nothing happened and letting them be “normal”. He needed to get rejected first then laugh that stupid laugh and  _ then  _ things could be normal. 

Maybe. They surely wouldn’t be for him but he knew Tsukki would do a good job pretending and soon enough it’ll feel natural again. This is what he wants, he tells himself. Except it’s not. 

“About the other day…” Tsukishima was talking now, pausing as if waiting for Yamaguchi to say something to interrupt him because he can’t start conversations for the life of him. 

“Sorry!” Yamaguchi blurted out, refusing to look over at Tsukishima in fear or cracking under the gaze that was bound to be there. “About everything. I won’t...I won’t make it weird like before. That was just a-- a prank kind of so…” He was stuttering, frantically poking around at the nearly crushed fruit on his plate until he gained the courage to look over. Tsukishima’s face looked, well just odd, as if that wasn’t what he wanted to hear or something but how the hell was Yamaguchi supposed to always know what he wanted! “...What is it?”

“It was a prank?”  _ Shit.  _

_ “No-- well??? Maybe?? You?? Tell?? Me??”  _ was what he wanted to say, instead settling with something he hoped he wouldn’t get in trouble for again. “It can be whatever you want it to be.” His insides were screaming at him, churning, lurching, aching at him for not taking the one opportunity he had to pretend like that never happened. His heart beat in his throat. 

It was silent until Tsukishima turned away, muttering something under his breath that Yamaguchi couldn’t capture. And then he was leaning in close, too close, close enough that Yamaguchi would accidentally throw up on his face if he wasn’t careful, until he stopped, nothing more than a few centimeters away from his nose. 

“Don’t play pranks like that, Tadashi.” He raised his arm and flicked Yamaguchi’s forehead, hard enough to hurt but not hard enough to kill the smile that was bubbling and forming at the feeling that things might be normal again. 

Nevermind. He was wrong. So fucking wrong. Because as his hands trembled where they were on the bed, unsure of where the hell he was supposed to put them, and as he sat further away from Tsukishima than normal, it became painfully clear that he could not just  _ be  _ normal. 

And Tsukishima definitely noticed. He noticed the second Yamaguchi slid his little body under the sheets and when he eyed his fingers as they frantically picked at one another. But he didn’t say anything. 

So Yamaguchi was having a near heart attack, Tsukishima wasn’t saying anything, and Yamaguchi was already contemplating on what excuse would work so he could leave before he melted. But there were none. No excuses could get him out of here, well, maybe they could but it would be embarrassingly obvious that he was trying to go. 

But still, maybe that was better than forcing himself to have this sleepover where he would have to hear the steady rocking of Tsukishima’s breathing all night long, haunting him, fueling his daydreams,  _ turning him on--  _

“Tadashi.” Yamaguchi’s neck nearly snapped at the speed of which he turned his head. “You’re tapping again.” 

He looked down at the finger drumming itself on the mattress and sighed internally because this meant that Tsukishima wanted him to stop and tell him what was wrong because he only taps his fingers when he’s nervous or stressed. 

“Sorry… I’m fine.” 

“No, you’re not.” 

Yamaguchi didn’t answer. Because he was right, and because he probably knew what was making him so uncomfortable and he hated that Tsukki could see how pathetic he looked as he crawled into his bed after being rejected and pretending everything was normal. It’s so stupid he could laugh. 

The noises were but a low buzzing in his ears, his mind too tired to take in the sound and pay attention to the show. School was starting again soon and Yamaguchi would have to pretend again. He wished he never did anything that night. He wished they could be normal. He hates himself. 

As quickly as the episode started, it was over and the guest futon was set up next to Tsukishima’s bed and the lights were out. But that all happened about two hours ago and there lay Yamaguchi with his eyes closed and face pressed into the pillow, thinking that if he pretended to be asleep hard enough, it would happen eventually. 

And he wasn’t wrong. As time passed and he froze himself in this position, he was drifting and the thoughts were fading until they were gone. 

A familiar crack from somewhere in the room was what woke him up. He assumed it was Tsukishima going to the restroom so he waited. Except the door never opened and the bathroom was never reached. Instead, the shuffling noise began to come from just beside his face and his hands that were near the pillow and out in the open felt suddenly exposed. They were cold, he noticed. 

They were, until they weren’t. Because another hand slid in his to warm it. Another hand with fingers that were threading through his own were there in an instant. 

_ What the actual fuck.  _

Yamaguchi stopped, scared to breathe and reveal that he was awake as he lay there, hands interlocked with the same guy who rejected him because it’s not like that was weird or anything. 

No, the way Tsukki was sitting on the empty space on his futon and holding his hand in the night hours of ass o’clock was not weird at all. A dream. This had to just be a dream. 

And the feeling rising in his nose that was one of a sneeze had to be a dream too.  _ It just had to.  _ Until it wasn’t, and before he knew it, he was sitting up and sneezing into the bend of his elbow, turning away from Tsukishima who, mind you, was still holding Yamaguchi's hand. 

And now it was silent except for the small sniffing of a sneezed-out Yamaguchi, who was having reality crash down on him in an instant. This was real, Tsukishima was holding his hand and staring at him as he stared back. 

“You’re making fun of me, aren’t you?” It just slipped out, he swears it did. He wasn’t trying to make this worse but to him, that was what was happening at the moment. And it sucked, so, so bad. 

“What?” 

“You’re doing this because it’s fun to make fun of me.” His breathing felt loud in the silence of the room as he pulled his hand away from Tsukishima’s. “You’re such a jerk.” His eyes stung with the trembling of his hands.  _ This is so unfair.  _

“I wasn’t making fun of you.” He spoke, so low and quiet that it would have been missed if the room was any noisier. 

“Then why, Tsukki? Don’t mess around like that it’s…” The tears were falling and he cursed as he caught them and stood to turn away, shifting from behind him indicating that Tsukishima was standing too. 

Arms were wrapping themselves around his waist as he cried, only making everything worse because Yamaguchi didn’t want his emotions to be played with like this but couldn’t push the hands away when they felt so natural there. And the tears weren’t stopping and the frustration only growing and his head was spinning. 

And the way Tsukishima turned his head to pass his shoulder and his lips touched the place where Yamaguchi’s ear met his cheek was only making Yamaguchi break down even more. 

  
  
  


\---

  
  
  


There comes a point where embarrassment can become so mortifying it blends into borderline crawl-into-a-hole-and-rot-there-and-die and Yamauchi can say that he now knows what this point looks like. Unfortunately. Horrifyingly. 

School starts back up tomorrow.  _ Hours of having to be around Tsukki starts back up tomorrow.  _

That’s fine! he thinks, This isn’t weird! he thinks again. But it doesn’t take a genius to know he’s a moron who’s lying to himself. Even Hinata would be able to realize how excruciatingly awkward the next day would be after him and his cru-- childhood best friend, ahem, ahem, were holding hands in the middle of the night, giving/receiving kisses on the ear, all in preparation for the cherry on top of Yamaguchi waking up before Tsukishima did in the morning and promptly getting his ass right out of there with a sticky note that he left on the bedside table that read:  _ Sorry Tsukki my mom needed me.  _

And again, it didn’t take a genius to know very well that that was a crappy excuse. 

And now we have Yamaguchi Tadashi, age 16, second year in high school, pinch server and soon to be starter if he practices hard enough, who has a bone-shaking, resolve-crumbling, complete and utter one-sided crush on what some might call a walking dick, and who was laying in his bed looking up at the peeling glow-in-the-dark stickers pasted to his ceiling that were still somehow glowing despite years of being there. 

Yamaguchi Tadashi who was losing his shit at the day that was to come in just a couple of hours. He swallowed and turned to shove his hands under his pillow to the cool side, not finding enough satisfaction with that so he took it upon himself to lift up the pillow completely and bend it over his head that was now face-down on the mattress. 

It was hot, it was cold, he was groaning and turning and shifting under the pillow that wasn’t cold any more so he flipped it once again. He was almost scared to see the time but he looked anyway.  _ 3:46.  _ The red traces of the glowing digits on his nightstand only caused him more groaning combined with the fact that he had to be up seven that morning. Maybe he would just say he was sick and beg on his knees to stay home after his mom saw right through his lie. It was tempting, it really was. 

He flipped back onto the pillow and on his back this time, forcing a leg out of the blanket but not off the side of the bed because one time when they were little, Tsukki said a demon from underground would chomp it right off and for some reason that still stuck with him six years later. 

He was shit tired, and he means  _ tired,  _ but the burn of the itch on his back wasn’t going away and the one way he knew he could fall asleep would be a way he did not want to resort to. But he was desperate and it was so, so late-- he was arguing with himself at this point-- so he, well, he had to, stop judging. 

_ Albertosaurus, Allosaurus, Apatosaurus,  _ _ Archaeopteryx, Baryonyx, Brachiosaurus…  _

His hand slid to the hem of his pants before going under and committing his own sinful deeds while he recited dinosaur names in chronological order. Yes, you heard that right. Yamaguchi was jerking his meat to dinosaur names. Fuck you all. 

Okay, no, it wasn’t the names themselves, just the memory of this listed time: Tsukishima Kei, age 14, second year middle-schooler and Yamaguchi Tadashi, age 13, second year middle-schooler, in the October nearly three years ago when Tsukishima had them both sit on the carpet of his room that was still there now and learn about different dinosaurs, starting off by reciting their names and taking turns doing so. 

There, they whispered and sat close under the starry blanket that Yamaguchi had brought over with a flashlight highlighting the text of the book. And in the dim light mixed with the smell of Tsukishima’s shampoo that still hadn’t changed its brand since then, Yamaguchi looked up at the way his cheeks flushed and his lips quirked up to some sort of awkward smile as he spoke about something he loved with all his heart. 

And in that moment, Yamaguchi realized how much he wanted to see that smile, how much he wanted to be the reason that smile surfaced, and how he wanted to keep this sight all to himself. In his daze though, he was leaning dangerously close to Tsukishima’s face, examining it and getting so far lost he hadn’t realized the speaking stopped and it was his turn again. 

And that his hand was pasted on the pants of Tsukki’s upper thigh, gripping hard and nearly rubbing it before snapping out of what he was doing to apologize as quickly as his mouth could stutter it out, only to pause once again at the tent at the crotch only centimeters away from where his hand once was. 

_ And oh, god.  _

As if Tsukishima had only noticed his own peeking hard-on at the same time as the other pair of eyes fell on them, he flushed, scrunching up his legs to his chest and causing the book to flip over and the blanket to falter over their heads as Yamaguchi yelped. 

“S-sorry.” And now he was racing his own feet to see how fast he could stand and rush to the restroom somehow still doing so gracefully which still baffles Yamaguchi to this day. 

He was out in nothing more than ten minutes, blushing profusely and mumbling an apology once again at Yamaguchi who was still shocked at the fact that he just witnessed Tsukishima, the all-cool, shit-talking Tsukishima, with a visible hard-on in his own peaks of embarrassment. And, he got to sit and stare at the bathroom door with eyes so wide a bug could crawl in there and never come back out, knowing that Tsukki was touching his own dick on the other side of that wall. 

“I didn’t know you liked dinosaurs  _ that  _ much, Tsukki.” He said, nearly choking at his own joke and the way Tsukishima flipped him off before grumbling and climbing into his bed without another word. 

Which leaves Yamaguchi himself who just made fun of Tsukki on the guest futon with a boner that he pretended didn’t exist because of, well, pride. 

So that was the memory that Yamaguchi just came to in his sixteen-year-old body at nearly four in the morning. Not because of dinosaur names. Not. Don’t. Shut up. 

  
  
  


\---

  
  
  


And alas the day was here, Yamaguchi yawning for the fifth time in the last minute as he made the dreaded walk to school, running late and in a sloppy uniform that he wasn’t actually sure was even the right one for his own school. 

He was dead tired. A walking zombie. A pale and dead clump of grass. And he was late to add on to that. By the time he made it, it was just three minutes until class started, the door of his homeroom rattling as he slid it open to see Tsukki at his desk and nearly sighed. 

It was going to be a long, long day. 

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i didn't feel like rereading to edit so if shit stops making sense just like...ignore it... leave a comment if you want, feedback is always great, or even just say hi because im feeling hella lonely today for some reason. anyway, hopefully i'll see you all in the next chapter!

**Author's Note:**

> i vote that we roundhouse kick tsukishima in the ass. just kidding. sadly i have fallen ill of the same tsukishima simp disease that yamaguchi has. 
> 
> im hoping to make the next chapter longer if i dont get killed by schoolwork before i can.


End file.
